Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal. This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation. End Sermon. Staci's Secret- Sam9.txt - There's more than Staci's past that Sam never knew. No case this time. Sam digs into the real story of his secretary/partner and discovers a secret that turns his life upside down. M/F, M/FFF, oral, anal, BDSM Staci's Secret "Sam turned the gun on the would-be bank robber. "No one's pointing a rod at me," he snarled. "Decide quick. Drop the gun or join your girlfriend in hell." "The gun dropped from the greasy little man's nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor. "You got me this time, flatfoot. You're too smart for me," he growled and put up his hands." Staci looked up as the door opened and grinned at Sam. "Still no calls?" he asked. It had been weeks since Sam helped wrap up the DuPeuys murder. Again, his stardom had failed to result in an overload of work. Overload? It hadn't mustered a single phone call. Sam was far from basking in the glory. He had taken to long, four hour, lunches and wandering the street aimlessly. He was more than bored. Staci protecting his nest egg seemed both a moot point and a fortunate happenstance. They were going to have to eat into it to simply stay afloat if the phone didn't ring soon. And money problems were the least of his worries. He was suddenly a marked man. Sam figured it was the 'love nest' photo of him that ran front page in the papers when the case wrapped up. He couldn't go anywhere without being recognized. People he had never seen before were grinning at him, asking "How's it hanging?" and giving him the thumbs up. And then there were the women. You would think getting the bedroom eyes from every female you met would be a good thing, but it was wearing thin. For one, even Sam wasn't man enough to fuck every woman that wanted him. For another, it took the fun out of a woman dropping her pants and begging for it. They didn't even have to be close enough to feel his animal magnetism, or aura, or whatever the hell it was. They wanted to fuck him from across the street. Sam was feeling like a sex object. It wasn't the way it was supposed to work for an investigator. There had to be a certain amount of anonymity for him to do his job- that is, if he ever got another job. No, Sam was not happy with the way his life was going. But it was typical. He finally felt he had a handle on the whole thing with Staci and the rest of his life went to shit. He was settling in nicely to being her bunkie with all the weird issues between them solved and now his livelihood was down the tubes. Life stunk. ----- "You can't have a new character step in out of the blue!" Staci cursed to herself. "What next? Aunt Hildy?" "You say something, doll?" Sam stuck his head out of his door to ask. "Nothing, nothing," Staci muttered. Sam was getting to be a nuisance. She empathized with what he was going through, but he was making it hard on her too. Except where she wanted it hard. Not that their sex life had dwindled. Sam had little else to do and she was getting it more regularly than ever. It was just that there was less cheeky smugness on Sam's part and way too much Staci comforting him going on in bed. She wished he'd start fucking all the women he complained were coming on to him. Maybe that would get the old fire back. He hadn't given her a good, convincing spanking in weeks. She was confident things would turn around. There were high profile detectives that were still effective. They used their notoriety as a tool to impress or threaten the truth out of contacts. Sam didn't need to loll about doing divorce work. He'd shown that he could handle other investigations. A couple of breaks and Staci could see them moving uptown and into the charmed circle. It wasn't her dream. She was not Annabella, Sam's latest ex-wife. It was the way out she saw. Sam was far too sensitive about his new fame, but it was going to be harder for him to creep around with a camera and catch straying spouses. Perhaps the time had come to move into other areas. ----- A monkey suit. Sam was rumpled Penney's and battered fedora. He tried to move his neck in the stupid collar with the goofy tie on the front. Sam knew what a tie was. It hung down the front of your shirt. This thing looked like a carnation with a couple of bites out of it. The job was a joke, a well-paying joke. He was the celebrity dick in the monkey suit. Supposedly, he was guarding the hostess' jewels, but he felt more like he was on display. A young woman, barely in her 20's, and wearing a strapless, backless, nearly topless gown smiled as she walked by and gave a whole new meaning to celebrity dick. Her smile was aimed at Sam's face, but her eyes never got above his belt. Sam knew how Staci felt. Some of the furor over Sam had died down, but that was one point of interest that hadn't seemed to diminish. Women hadn't lost their fascination for staring openly at Sam's crotch. There had been nothing about sexual prowess in any of the newspaper reports. He couldn't imagine where every woman in town got the idea. He had screwed a lot of women, but not enough to spread rumors to every women in town. The hostess moved and Sam moved away from the refreshment table. For as much as he was getting paid, he could at least look like he was doing his job. He found a place by a pillar where he had a clean view of the lady and her trinkets. It wasn't that kind of crowd. The guys by the door looked plenty tough and well able to handle anyone else that showed up. If there was going to be trouble, it was going to be later, in the dark. There might be someone in the room lusting after a couple of hundred thousand in ice, but they weren't going to do a smash and grab. They would wait and do it quietly and stealthily while everyone slept. He was a decoration. Oh look, my jewels are so expensive I hire a man to look at them all night long. Sam was the designated looker. He wasn't giving himself enough credit. While correct in the essentials, it was also important that he was Sam Hill. That was a double coup. Her jewels needed a guard and she went for the famous one, first class all the way. The status didn't amuse Sam any more than the do-nothing job. It sucked and he was stuck with it. But it was a long way from starving. No one could afford to turn down the kind of money Staci was getting for these do-nothing personal appearances. Like it or not, he owed it to both of them to pull down the tall green while his fame lasted. But it didn't satisfy his need for problem-solving. He found himself investigating the smallest things to keep off the shakes. He knew what brand of mustard the hot dog vendor on the corner used. He knew the girl in the red Escort with a shoulder-length brunette flip wasn't happy in her marriage. At least she was having a clandestine affair with one of the cooks at Judy's Cafe. He couldn't help it. He needed something to figure out. ----- How much did he know about Staci anyway? The question came to him as a joke when he was laughing at himself about his addiction to snooping and it lingered. Her Sunday school teacher was Mrs. Grobart. He didn't think she'd ever mentioned the name of the restaurant manager that wanted to get in her pants when she was a teenager. She had an attitude about drunks. She liked being helpless and feeling forced when she was fucked. She read detective stories like other people eat popcorn. Sam ran to the end of the list of things he knew about Staci quickly. She couldn't cook, hated to clean and only kept a neat house by PUTTING THINGS AWAY WHEN SHE WAS THROUGH WITH THEM, a trait she was trying, none too gently, to instill in Sam. And lately she was more mysterious than ever. Of course Sam had to admit that he'd never spent as much time obsessing over her and everything else before. His recent fame had kept him in and kept him idle. Maybe he was just noticing for the first time. But his gut told him Staci was guarding a secret. Not a secret from her past, although he was interested where her taste for being tied up came from, but a secret present. Sam started to pry as a joke at first. Poking around in the times he was alone in their apartment hadn't yielded much. Staci kept parts of her current life around, but not memories. She must have a time limit. He remembered a squeaky troll he had given her during their affair between marriages that had been in the apartment before, but no longer. It made her seem more mysterious. She wasn't a cold machine. Sam was certain her memories were around, just not where he had looked so far. The possible hiding places at the apartment were dwindling. He had sense enough not to ask Staci questions, even in passing. She'd know what he was doing. He wasn't selling her perception short. Then events began to happen all at once. Either that, or the change in his employment charged Sam with so much nervous energy that he finally got to every possibility in his search. As far as the search, Staci hid her deep secrets in the least concealed place. He found the trove in the filing cabinet against the wall by the door to his office. Sam again questioned whether it was Staci's desire for secrecy or his own indifference that left him with so many questions. It wasn't a question he had time to ponder. Whether or not he had been right or paranoid in sensing Staci was covering up something got lost in his emotional turmoil over his do-nothing jobs. ----- At least the jobs had been do-nothing in the past. It made it all the more ugly that Staci came to him with the proposal. He didn't want to look like a pansy and he didn't want her thinking he was getting weird love ideas about her. "I'm not sold on the idea as far as the business goes, but it isn't like you haven't done it before," Staci said. "And she's willing to pay $2,000 for the extra time." It was no longer a staggering sum. Sam had been clearing upwards of two grand a week since he started the celebrity dick appearances. He knew what Mrs. Newman wanted. Call it overnight security if you will, she wanted to fuck the famous dick. In this case, the well-preserved widow was 52 and not too far decayed. Sam still saw it as opening a door though which he could see grannies on their knees giving him gum-jobs. But it was faggy to turn down pussy- even old pussy. "Is it a secret between you and her that I'm supposed to fuck her, or did she really insist that she wanted the protection?" Sam asked. "I'm not your fucking pimp, Sam," Staci snapped, "We both know what she wants, but she didn't make some secret deal with me." "Sorry," Sam apologized, "But you know how it is to be a sex object. I'm not my old good-natured self." Staci laughed. "Don't like the way it feels on the other side?" Staci mocked, "You like objectifying, but not being an object? Ohhhh, that's so sensitive." That was exactly the reaction he was afraid of. It made it seem Staci thought he should have put it to one of his bosses before now. His only objection was setting a precedent. That didn't mean much in the face of Staci's attitude. "Well, the sensitive guy will do it, but stress that it's a special deal for a very special client so I don't end up being hired by Godzilla," Sam said. ----- Mrs. Newman spent an inordinate amount of time showing select guests her home. Sam had to tail them and she took advantage of that. She would walk past him, wink and give his dick a squeeze as she took the guest back to the main hall. Sam decided it was her way of being seductive. It was easier on him than admitting she was playing with her toy. Sam saw many of the same guests at the functions he worked. He had discovered that the 20-something girl that always stared at his crotch was Sissy VanDerMeer. She was at Mrs. Newman's party as well, still examining her favorite scenery. He wondered if the hostesses listed his name on the invitations and Sissy only accepted ones he worked. In a way, Sam was glad when the party broke up. He had come here to fuck Mrs. Newman and now he could get to it. He had done his best to see her in her best light all night, but his main relief was getting it over. "Would you please check with security?" she asked, indicating a intercom by her bed, "Tell them it's a new night." Newman, new-something- new night probably meant putting the stones away. Sam guessed a new day meant she was bringing the ice out into the light. Decoding that was probably the most fun he was going to have. If he smoked, he would have blown smoke at the wall where she was standing to see if he could detect laser sensors around the wall safe. Instead he stood with his hands in his pockets waiting for new instructions. It might be interesting to see how she got him into bed. "Now I need to freshen up and get ready for bed," she said when the jewels were locked away, "Take off your coat and tie and get comfortable for the long night ahead." Sam did just what she said, except his slipped off his shoes as well. He was pretending that he was going to stay up and watch her sleep. Officially, that was the gig. He wanted her to have to say out loud what she really wanted from him. She came out in a flimsy white babydoll and panties to match. Sam figured she wanted the whole seduction thing. There didn't look like a quick way to get her out of those things. She probably wanted him to pull her panties down with his teeth or something. Then he saw the way she smiled at him. She was no good at this. She probably thought her outfit was incredibly sexy. He guessed rich people didn't have much experience with the kind of places he dwelled. "I'm sure we can make you more comfortable than that," she said, crooking a finger. Sam allowed her to undress him. She stripped him to his shorts and then led him to her bed. "You'll be able to observe me better from here," she said as she climbed into bed and held up the covers for him to follow. Okay, not classic, but efficient. She didn't tell him to "show me what you got" or ask him to tell her she was hot. She kept the veneer over them, however thinly it was stretched by her actions. She didn't say anything to blow their cover when he settled in bed beside her. She only began to touch his face and then let her hands trail down over his chest. This part of being a sex object Sam liked. She smiled at him as her hands explored. Sam felt like a magnificent specimen. He smiled back at her when her fingers slipped under the waistband of his underwear. Her smile became a leer as her fingers groped out the outline of his cock. His cock wriggled and grew under her gentle exploration. She fell on him and kissed him. Sam supposed it was to represent her being overcome by a gust of passion. To him it just meant she wanted him to roll her over and go to work on her. That's why he got the big bucks. "No," she said quietly when he tried to find out how to remove the baby doll, "Leave that. It makes me feel so bad." Sam kissed her some more and fondled her breasts through the top. She was an old woman. He was prepared for sunken, sagging breasts, but she didn't seem prepared to show them. When her old nipples pointed hard toward her knees, Sam knelt beside her and pulled down her panties. Her butt was soft and dimpled, but it had held its shape better than her breasts. It was hardly larger than Staci's ass, albeit much blockier and less curvy. Sam could see why she wanted to keep his attention down there. Her attention was about to be focused on the same area on Sam. He made a little show of squirming his underwear down over his protruding cock. He left his underwear around his knees, managing to slip it off his feet as he climbed over her thigh and between her legs. She was suitably impressed. She drew her knees up in what must have been to her an obscene spread of welcome. Sam noticed incidentally that she didn't shave and her genitalia did resemble a beaver. That passed in a flash as he took his place to fuck her. It was a different perspective. He was generally the aggressor when it got down to the nasty, but usually the woman started it and there was a mutual attraction. This time he felt like a performer. He was aiming to please, not fucking for his own joy. His feelings didn't faze Celia Newman. She seemed much pleased when he entered her and by the time his cock was to the hairs in her twat, she was pleased to the point of struggling for breath. He expected some acknowledgement- that she liked it, that he filled her up- but Mrs. Newman wasn't admitting her top half knew what her lower half was doing. Sam fucked her cunt since Mrs. Newman obviously thought that was the only part that needed to be involved in sex. Having only one focus, Sam tried to be creative as he plunged deep and shallow, angled and straight, slow and fast into his date. The only difference between him and Darla Dare was their sex. That and perhaps his timer was more obvious when it expired. He wondered how that timing would be until his musings were interrupted by Celia's commotion. He didn't have to do math problems in his head to outlast her. He fucked her hard and steady while she came and then fell back into slow, long thrusts as she caught her breath. He thought about cumming as he sped up again. He didn't want to give her too much for her money. He didn't care what she thought and it could put too many demands on him in the future. She made the only noise of the night as she came the second time. Sam supposed he was to believe that he had fucked her into unthinking ecstasy. He did. He had at least fucked her so she wanted to announce to whatever ears listened in that she was being satisfied. He left his load in her while she still trembled from the orgasm. He rolled over to lay beside her and gave her a post-coital kiss on the cheek. "Oh my, she sighed momentarily and rolled on her side to wrap her hand around his cock. "Oh my, that was nice." It was fine, it had stopped and Celia seemed ready to let it rest for a bit. 'That was nice' was not much of a review, but Sam was a whore and it was the money that counted. That thought mocked him as he drifted. Sam realized they had slept when he was roused by a noise. It didn't come from the bed. He fumbled on the bedside table and turned on the light at the same second he bellowed, "Who's there?" Celia sat up beside him. The portly man in the dark clothing stared at them with saucer eyes like beacons in his otherwise dark outline. "I... I must have gone in the wrong room," he squeaked. There. Sam had done his job. The man had not expected to find a light sleeper in the room, let alone another man. He had been foiled. Maybe, just maybe, and Sam clung to this faint hope, Mrs. Newman had some suspicion that one of her guests was a crook. Maybe, just maybe, she had hired him to fuck her AND watch the safe. Sam sank into an even more rotten mood when he saw how little doing his job meant. It was security's problem now. Celia didn't even confront her guest. That wouldn't be polite. Of course any hasty attempts at departure might change her attitude and Sam was sure a check for security breaches that would furnish intent for some later, quiet police report were being carried on even as the sleepy Celia turned to him and kissed him. "My hero," she said. Her gigolo, Sam thought. His job was clear, climb on Celia and give her bones a good mid-night rattle. It still felt just as good to cum, he philosophized, no matter the feelings just before and especially after. ----- Staci formed an unfair opinion when Sam took out his frustration on her rear. There was a mean edge to his treatment, but he was much more like the old Sam than he had been in a month. She even suffered his hard plunge into her asshole without comment as she lay tied to the bed over a pile of pillows with her ass on fire. Her cunt thirsted for the same treatment as he rudely buggered her for his pleasure alone, but she took it as a sign that Sam's ardor was on the upswing and only screamed and did not scold. Sam's grumpy acceptance of the next job was half for show. He still despised the idea of being a male whore, but the clients were the VanDerMeer's. He was to "guard" the VanDerMeer children, three girls, for which he would be paid $1,000 a girl. He already knew one of his clients. It didn't seem so infamous to be at her beck and call. He also was devising a plan. From her memory file, he had discovered Staci had an aunt in the ironically named (for Sam) town of Howard. There was a Crawfordville in her past. He still considered it mostly a lark, but he wanted to pursue these links to her past. He wanted to slip off and pursue his leads like a real detective. "But I need a break after this," Sam said. "What say I do the VanDerMeers and then take a week off?" The parents VanDerMeer had a couple of revisions to Sam's duties. Sissy and Penny could be guarded at liberty, but they did not want him guarding Tricia. He would be paid for all three and he could amuse Tricia as he saw fit- as long as he didn't touch her. Tricia was unhappy with that verdict. Sissy and Penny seemed sympathetic, but not fanatical about their 15-year-old sister's cause. Sam suspected it was because it left more for them. The girls suffered from that greed called entitlement. They had much more than they needed and wanted much more than they had. They didn't feel deprived; it was for display, and Sam was a trophy. Sam wasn't disgusted. He would have been if he had been hired for Mrs. VanDerMeer, but he had wanted to peel the flimsy front of her gown off Sissy the first time he saw her. He felt she needed an honest assessment of her charms and a good dose of the cock she was always staring at. She'd be better off armed with the facts. Then she could better estimate her attractiveness in terms of the ratio of physical to monetary assets. Sam just wanted to fuck the smug smile off her face. He wanted to see the look on her face when she was confronted with his cock in the flesh, up close, rather than across the room in his pants. Penny was a bonus. She had avoided the tiny titties of the rest of the women in her family, or been surgically enhanced. Sam was sure her schoolgirl 'charm' would be amusing as he introduced her to the real world. He was interested in her reaction to his immunity to her usual schoolgirl ploys. Penny, and for that matter all of them, could feel a superiority because he was hired help, but that didn't extend to the proper execution of his job. He may be hired help, but the girls hadn't hired him. He was going to give her what he thought she needed, not what she wanted. "Little" Tricia was a wash. She was a cute kid, but two sisters were enough. He wouldn't mind trying her on too, but there was going to be enough to do with her sisters. In that, he agreed with Sissy and Penny. "Who needs to be checked out for nasty spying devices first?" Sam asked for volunteers. "You know you've wanted me from the first time you saw me," Sissy tossed her hair, "Of course you want me." "The first is the quickest," Sam said. "Is that what you want? The least?" He had repelled her, but now Penny didn't want "the least" either. Sam had painted himself into a corner. "Then we're going to start breaking rules right from the start," Sam escaped his own snare. The girls were confused. "Tricia," Sam called, "Were you told not to touch me?" The 15-year-old slowly shook her head no. "And they told me I can't touch you. There we go then," Sam smiled and put his arms out to his sides, "You start us out by touching whatever you want." Those were the contrived and somewhat unreliable rules between a lap dance and prostitution. Sam was sure no one in this house would know that. It amused him to turn the VanDerMeer's youngest into a lap dancer. Sam no longer cared what Sissy and Penny thought at that point, but he was sure neither of them wanted to go first. Neither one of them could make a big issue of it. Tricia came right over and pulled down Sam's pants. She wanted to examine a cock in its native habitat. Her hand went in Sam's boxers and felt around. "It feels real funny," she pronounced, "I can't guess what it looks like." For all her professed ignorance, it didn't seem to be a shock to her when she pulled down his shorts. She only seemed interested. "I've got an idea," Sam suggested, "I know a way you can get real familiar with my friend." Sam sat in a plush chair, leaned back and spread his legs. "Now crawl in there and take it for a test drive," Sam invited. It was about as close to almost having fun as you can have with your pants off. Really, it was more the situation than Tricia's handling that was mildly interesting. "See how it tastes," Sam encouraged, "At least you can learn one thing tonight." That was better. It wasn't the miracle of the one-lick blow-job but it shot the proceedings directly into the category of interesting on its own merit. She was 15 and she did have his dick in her mouth. And it was his dick in her mouth. Behind the scenery, there was real sucking going on. It wasn't great sucking, but Sam was easy. "I can't do anything, honey," Sam said as she looked up at him from his crotch with one hand wrapped around his cock. "You have to do everything yourself. That's the rules." "I want to see her take it in the ass," said Penny, "Turn around and sit on that thing." "She can't do it- she's just a little girl," Sissy taunted. Tricia was obviously wise to the ways of her sisters. "I'm not doing anything that will make me a big, canyon-butt like my two slut sisters," Tricia taunted back. Her mouth clamped over the end of Sam's cock with a purpose. She was going to learn one thing tonight. She changed techniques every few seconds as if she had learned to suck cock from a porno video. "It's nice to experiment, but if you want to make your boyfriend happy, stick with the old up and down," Sam suggested. "But won't that make the icky stuff come out?" Tricia asked. "It's not messy if you catch it in your mouth," Sam said. Never too early to set them on the right path, Sam thought. Tricia's face twisted into a sour expression. "Don't worry, you're rich. Guys will go out with you even if they like other girls better," Sam said. That hit a nerve. Sam didn't care if it was the rich part or liking other girls better. Tricia went back to sucking his cock and persevered. She shied away when Sam responded to her rapid bobbing on his cock with involuntary thrusting as he approached his climax, but when he managed to control those lunges she kept sucking until he came. Then, to Sam's happy surprise, she forced his cock to the back of her tongue and sucked the spurting jizm like a milkshake through a straw. He'd had better, but then again he'd had worse from women older than 15. All in all it was an auspicious start to the evening. The first one out of the way, Sissy was ready to claim her rightful place at the front of the line. She waited as Sam took his pants off his feet. "Now you should search me and be very thorough," she said. Playtime was over. Now Sam was going to have to work for his money. Sissy saw her opportunity and Sam knew what she wanted. He wasn't going to be able to fuck her and she wanted him to fill the time pleasing her. This was bed work. Sam shooed her over and patted her down. "You never can be sure about stuff sewn in the linings," Sam said as an excuse to strip her. Her bra was a wisp of flimsy nylon. It didn't have to be substantial since its purpose was decoration rather than function. Her breasts might have flared out to two inches from her chest at the nipple line. Sam wondered what kept the top of her dresses up. Her butt was surprisingly bulbous given her slender torso. It bulged sideways and back as if some malicious creator had stuck the wrong bottom on her top. The overall effect was not displeasing, if comical. It didn't make a difference to Sam. He had a job to do. Beautiful or deformed, he was paid to fuck them. He spread her out on her back and carefully placed her feet flat on the bed about three feet apart. Then he crawled between the arches formed by her thighs and got to work. It had never been Sam's forte. His life was populated with women that were hot for him before they dropped their pants and wanted his cock in them immediately. If they wanted more, they were the ones doing the sucking. He was willing but not enthusiastic. He wasn't very subtle, either. His idea was to lick it a few times and then smash his face in there. It was a form of sex, wasn't it? Why wouldn't a woman want more and quicker? Sissy seemed gratified by his attack at first. But feeling superior to Sam soon lost its savor in the irritating and sometimes painful task of putting up with his unexciting rooting between her legs. "I am not your dinner!" she announced scornfully, "Eat it is a figure of speech." Sam took a deep breath and fought down several replies. The burn slowly cooled as Sam played good doggy between Sissy's thighs. Her rebuke was enough to make him get serious about his job and observe her reactions to his tongue. She liked light flicking swipes of his tongue along her lips and a certain amount of solid stimulation of her clit. The job became easier to swallow (so to speak) as Sam felt his cock stir beneath him. In fact, he enjoyed it more in direct proportion to the increasing stiffness in his cock. He had gotten so used to the procedure that he was still licking when Sissy was trembling in a very common way and calling out distinctly street-wise encouragements. "No, don't leave! Right there! Right on that spot," gave way to, "Yeah- suck it! Suck my hot clitty! Make me cum! Come on! Eat my cunt!" As she slumped spread-legged and obscenely available after her orgasm, Sam suddenly realized he had been hard enough to fuck her for some time. He guessed he was lost in the moment. Obviously a hard prick made him a better cunt-sucker. "I should get him now," Penny interrupted their repose. "You've had an orgasm. It should be my turn." Sissy was suddenly alert again. Her head popped off the bed and Sam couldn't help noting that when she pushed up on her elbows, her breasts made the strangest little half circle creases on her chest like custard cups that were upset before they set. "I haven't had 'my turn'," Sissy scoffed. "'My turn' is when I get the famous dick inside me and he fucks me." Famous dick. That was just great. Sam was re-evaluating his desire for this girl as she sparred with her sister. "Anyway," Sissy softened, "He'll need time to get hard again after he's done, so you're not missing anything." "Yeah, don't fight over me, there's plenty for everybody and we've got all night," Sam said, trying to hide the edge of sarcasm he felt. "Since there's so much of you," Sissy turned a cold stare on Sam to show that she had heard the sarcasm, "You can slide up here and show me. Show me how much of you there is." Yes'm, right away, Sam thought to himself, it's the only good thing that's coming from this night that doesn't have a dollar sign attached to it. He crawled up the bed over Sissy and stopped with his cock aimed at her still-gaping pussy. He didn't look at her until his cock had found the mark and then locked into her gaze as he pushed inside. The reaction came when he was about three quarters of the way in. He pushed and her eyes narrowed. He pushed again and they went wide. "Careful," she gasped, "I don't need you to hurt me." Sam didn't feel a need to respond. His dick was doing the talking now and Sissy had just lost her superiority. She was finding there was a gap between intending to remain unruffled and carrying it off. Sam's cock was in that gap and he still hadn't pushed all the way into her. Sissy made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan as Sam finally pushed tight against her. He didn't understand the fuss. He was not hung like a horse, whatever his fans said about him. He didn't think of himself as a stud, but then he was more of a doer than a thinker when it came to fucking. He decided Sissy got the little ones or Sissy didn't get many at all. When he moved, her expression convinced Sam that it was a matter of self control instead. Sam's cock was threatening her imperious air and she was afraid she'd act like a normal woman when Sam made her cum. He'd already heard dirty talk. What else was there? There was Penny. "Aren't you going to yowl like a cat in heat?" Penny asked her sister as Sam was plowing into her. "You always do with Bradley." Sissy didn't answer. Sissy was concentrating very hard. At least something was making sweat break out in beads on her forehead. "Oh Bradley! You are so big! Hurt me, Bradley, make it rough!" Penny went on in a falsetto slander of her sister. "Shut up, Penny," Sissy said menacingly into Sam's shoulder. "Can't you see I'm busy." If he was making less money, Sam would have laughed. Yes, the gigolo part stunk, but there was something refreshing in this scene. He could learn a lesson from these two about taking yourself too seriously. Then Sissy interrupted his train of thought with a quiver as he hit bottom and his attention went back to his fucking. Sissy refused to vocalize as she thrashed under Sam, but the grip of her fingers and the clamp of her thighs relayed the message. It seemed like Sissy and Penny's exchange had broken a seal on Sam's offended mood. He climbed off Sissy in better spirits than he had been in for weeks. So he wasn't playing Bogart and cracking cases. He was making better money than he ever had and he was getting laid regularly. What did he have to bitch about? He was so mellow he had a few suggestions for Penny on how she might like to position herself while he did his duty waiting for the next hard-on. His ulterior motive was to have his cunt-lapping move naturally into fucking Penny on his lap in a chair. Since she was the only VanDerMeer with tits, Sam didn't want to miss the opportunity to get up close and personal with them. If Penny had any sense, she'd welcome the attention if only to use it to one-up her sister, Sam reasoned. Not that he cared if she had sense. This was about the good stuff. He was making lemonade with his lemons now- or in this case titty-pops. Penny liked the idea very much. She liked Sam sucking on her nipples as she bounced in his lap and she liked all his dick- every millimeter of it. She pushed Sam back against the back of the chair to get those last millimeters and took advantage of her perch to push one tit and then the other into her mouth as it suited her. It didn't make Sam cry either. This was the way he liked it. His cock was getting a fine pussy-flesh massage and Penny's tits were keeping his mouth amused. Three fucks in a day was not a big deal for Sam, but three in a row brought a different focus by the third. He was happy to let Penny do the work and enjoyed her cunt in a more relaxed than incited way. He knew he wasn't going to cum like a fountain, but the enjoyment he'd get before he came would more than make up for that. "Now who wants some more?" Sam asked when Penny had climbed off to flop down by her sister on the bed. Tricia giggled and Sam winked at her. She might fuck him all night if she was allowed and Sam wanted her to hold that thought for the benefit of future men. Penny and Sissy just grunted and rolled over. Sam awoke with the hang-over of a dream that a spider was crawling over his balls. He felt the tickle and lifted his hand to crush the dream spider without thinking. "Don't! I was just looking!" came a squeak from his groin. Head now clear, Sam looked down at Tricia's face staring up at him from between his legs. Her fingers were the spider from his dream as she was making a close-up inspection of his equipment. As they looked at each other, Sam's cock rose like a cobra from a basket. It was as if his morning hard-on had overslept and was just now waking up. "Did I do that?" Tricia marveled. "It does it by itself sometimes, but I think you helped," Sam said. "Do you want me to put it in my mouth again?" Tricia asked. Technically he was off the clock. In the spirit of his instructions, he was to have nothing to do with Tricia. But he had a hard-on- on the clock or not and Tricia had already made him cum in her mouth. His pause erased the question. Penny was up on one elbow and looking at his cock. "Beat it, squirt," she said. "Can't have you wasting that one." Her eyes glided up to meet Sam's and they were smoking. "Since it's there, why don't you fuck me this time," she said. Sam didn't remember that she'd been any better than Sissy or Tricia's mouth, but he did remember having a good time fucking her. And, like she said, he had the hard-on. It was very different in the morning. "Oh Jeeze! Wait a minute!" Penny screeched when he rolled between her legs and pushed his cock at her. She pushed Sam up on his knees and then bent double to bring her mouth to his cock. She sucked it five seconds and then fell back on the bed. "I want it, but I'm not that ready," she said. Whatever 'that ready' was, she certainly wasn't. Wet, Sam's cock moved inside her well enough, but from Penny's expression it was not easy to take. "Come on!" Penny ordered when Sam hesitated, "Your job is to make me like it. Now give it to me and don't be such a pussy." Coincidentally Sissy opened her eyes on the word 'pussy'. "Why do you get to fuck him?" she demanded with her first words. They ignored her. Sam was just miffed enough by Penny's attitude that he was trying to make her pussy pay. Ignoring Sissy seemed to be Penny's calling in life. Sam didn't think Penny ever got quite comfortable as he fucked her. There seemed to be a whine in every noise she made as his cock pounded into her. But she did a good impression of an orgasm as Sam was jarring her with deep thrusts and as he was cumming none of it mattered anyway. He was done. He had finished the job and now he was going to take a break. And thanks to the awakening he had from the self-parody of the VanDerMeer girls, he had some hope that it would actually be fun and not just a break from his grouchy sullenness. ----- "You know what I want to do with my time off? Go someplace, get out of here and see some different sights," Sam launched into his spiel, "I need to clear my head out after all this non-work. I need to take some time for me. (Sam read that on a magazine at the supermarket) "I'd love to have you along, but I think it will be better if I have to focus on myself and not have you as a distraction. Because you're such a distraction that I could hardly think of anything else if you were there. And I think I need to get back to basics and sort some things out..." "SAM! you don't have to convince me. Go!" Staci shouted. Sam froze. She was frustrated, not angry. In his rush to cover his real reason for the trip, he hadn't let her get a word in. She wasn't hard to convince at all. "Go?" Sam said. "I love you, Sam Hill, there, I said it. I do. That's why we have this wacky relationship. I like the way you are. You seem to like the way I am. It works the way we've got it figured out," Staci said and then took a breath. "And lately, even though I still love you, it's gotten weird. You're not my wild man. You're a bitchy old woman. I think a change of scenery will do you good. Get laid. That's an order. That's my one condition for letting you go off by yourself. Let some woman seduce you. Talk your way into some broad's pants. Fuck every woman you meet. Just bring me back my old, can't walk down the street without getting laid Sam." Inconceivably, Sam understood. Fucking cleared his head, but when he fucked Staci it made him think about her and him and her and there were only so many things to think about that. His mind was getting fat and lazy on home fucking. Clients didn't count. He wasn't thinking about anything when he was fucking them. ----- Crawfordville didn't remember Staci. At least that was the story he got looking for memories of her. They all must have moved out because nobody here knew anything about her. He was in a mood to stomp on this town like so much cow flop and spread it in bits all over the landscape. He was sitting in his car thinking those very things when he heard a hiss. There was a woman tapping on his window. She motioned for him to open the door. "You're that Sam Hill, aren't you," she asked as she slid into the passenger seat beside him. "What you want with Staci?" It was like being on a real case again. "I don't reveal my client or what they want," Sam launched into his pitch, "But if she doesn't have anything to hide, then I won't find out anything bad, now will I?" "Drive and take the first right," she instructed. "Lillian Clump," she introduced herself as they took the turn and drove off down a long, dusty road, "And lay off the name. Clem Clump is the most prosperous farmer in these parts- for what that means." "And Mrs. Clump is questioning the bargain she got even with the pick of the litter," Sam saw it immediately. "Compared to what I came from, it's heaven," she said, "I can't help it now. I had to climb out of the shit before I could know there was more out there and I'd never got out of the shit without Clem." "So, you knew the Goodbodys when you were wallowing in shit?" Sam asked. "Everybody knows everybody in a town this size," She said. She was holding back. Sam wondered what sordid tale Lillian had to tell. His pulse picked up. "So, tell me about Staci," Sam pried. "Wait," she said, "It's only a few more miles." It took ten more minutes of lonely road before she told him to turn into a farm drive. It seemed like it took almost as long to reach buildings. "Park back there behind the barn," she instructed. "Now will you tell me why you've dragged me out in the middle of nowhere just to answer a couple of questions?" Sam asked. "Didn't drag you out here to answer questions," she said, "I drug you out here to make a deal." Sam didn't want to help some dissatisfied farm wife escape. She was nice enough looking, in a bare wood kind of way, but Sam wasn't looking for riders. "Look lady, big city lights are bright and all, but I'm not looking for someone to ride shotgun," he said. "I don't want to go with you- well, I do, but that's not the deal," Lillian said. "I heard all about you. You get with the ladies left and right and that's what I'm needing. I'll tell you what I know after you take me in that barn and fuck me bowlegged." Staci would approve. He could take care of two deals at once. They went into the barn. It was open and airy and filled with much more sunlight than Sam imagined. There was a pile of clean straw in what looked like an oversized stall. "Doesn't Clem do his duty?" Sam asked as they took off their clothes. "Daily, like one of his chores, and with just as much imagination," she complained, "He's got it down to a science. I can tell when he's busy because he just lets down his overalls and does his business so's he can get back to the fields." Clem was a stupid man. Lillian was sexy in that au natural basic kind of way. She was unvarnished, unpainted and without the little tricks girls learn to attract men. She was just female and there was a scrubbed, innocent appeal about her. Of course she had nice firm tits and no kind of waist to go along with her manner. She was closer to what God had planned than most the teenagers Sam saw in the city. It should be a pleasure. "I just got two kind of requests," Lillian said as he looked her over. Sam brought his eyes up from his inventory to meet hers. "I want you to cum on my face. I'm sorry if you like a woman staying down there while you're squirting, but I want that," she said, "And I want you to fuck me from behind." Sam didn't think his face registered an emotion, but Lillian seemed duty-bound to explain. "Funny ain't it," she said, "You'd think a farmer would do that kind of automatic, but Clem thinks its perverted. Won't fuck like animals, he says. Man on top like the Good Book says. Every damn time. Every damn day." "So you like sucking better or do you want a good long fuck?" Sam asked. "I want both. That's the deal," she scowled. "I'm not trying to cheat you," Sam said, "I'm just figuring where to start. Whatever we do second is going to take longer." Sam hoped he'd get to lay back and enjoy a long blow-job, but Lillian decided to start there. More time to know what it felt like if his cum dripped off her face while he fucked her, she said. Sam thought it might be because she was a little unsure of her technique. Her eyes kept darting up to check with him as she tentatively took his cock in her mouth. You might never forget how to ride a bike, but the first ride in years can be shaky. That was the way Lillian began. She seemed afraid as his cock wiggled and swelled in her mouth, like she didn't know how big it could get. Cock sucking came back to her more, the harder his cock got. By the time his cock was hard, Lillian's head was sliding up and down on his cock in good order. Sam lay back and let the straw tickle his ass as she sucked his cock. It was great to feel how much Lillian wanted to please him. Whatever her own motives, it felt like she was serving him. This was the vacation he needed. No more dick for hire, no more abusing Staci to ease his tension, this was making everyone's dream come true. "Are you going to squirt or what?" Lillian asked him, "I've been sucking this thing for five minutes." Sam bit back his criticism, helpful as it might be, that she was boring bobbing up and down, up and down. He held his ego in check and didn't proclaim that it took half an hour to suck him off. He offered a solution. "Let me help you," he said. Sam got up and stood in the straw, waiting for Lillian to sit up. He took her hand and placed on his cock. "Use this as a stand off," he said. He thought that was the right term. It was either nautical or from the farm and he figured she'd understand once he got his cock in her face. He didn't pull on her head, simply let her feel his hands rest there as he fucked her face. This was supposed to be for her, so he let her control how much cock she had to take. She wasn't very adventurous, but her hand effectively jerked him off as she tried to protect her throat from his thrusts. The ambiance wasn't as pleasing, but Sam was getting excited faster. "I trust you'll take care of the rest," Sam gasped as he approached climax. She jerked back like the first spurt was unexpected anyway. She jerked her hand with more planned direction. It wasn't the biggest load he'd ever shot, but it did leave streams of jizm flowing down her face. She seemed pleased. She gobbled his cock back into her mouth when the fountain stopped. She did her best to keep Sam's cock hard. He lay back in the straw and let her work. He was being serviced now. His pleasure was necessary to Lillian's wants. She was doing everything she knew to get him hard again. She sucked, trying to pull the blood back. She went down to lick his balls out of some memory. She rolled his cock between her hands. Sam appreciated most of it. Finally he pulled her up to lie on top of him. He put her on her back with his cock between the cheeks of her ass. He reached down to grope her breasts as she moved her ass around him. There was no magic restoration. Sam just thought it was a better way to spend his recovery than her frenzied attempts at instant inflation. Her breasts were agreeably soft in his hands as he squeezed them and felt their weight. Lillian seemed to develop a certain affection for having his cock between her cheeks. Sam was thinking he did save the good part for last. If she moved her ass like she was at the moment when he was fucking her, it was going to be real good. "Why Mr. Hill, I believe you're ready," she said as he began to rub his cock back at her. Sam proved not to be the only one ready after their cuddle. Lillian sat up on Sam's cock and then fell forward onto her hands and knees. Sam followed her up and got behind her. Her cunt was warm and open for business. This was a memory she had kept alive. Her ass went up like a receptive bitch as Sam slid his cock into her. She squeezed down on him as he pulled back. She swayed from side to side as he fucked her faster. She did a lot of walking to keep her ass so trim. Sam knew it was better than fucking the lax teenagers he had compared her to. It was nice the way her butt kept out of the way as he shoved his cock up her cunt. When she tilted up, he could feel her pussy lips mash as he pressed into her. Lillian acted like she felt the same way. She was grunting and moaning up a storm as he fucked her. Sam fucked her faster, slamming into her vibrating butt. He kept fucking her faster as her cries became shrill. "So fucking take it!" she growled. "You're making me cum. Take it!" She was cumming. Sam's frantic plunges into Lillian became slower, stronger thrusts as she wriggled on his cock. He slammed hard into her butt in deliberate thrusts. She shivered as he drove his cock into her like a spike. She came good. Sam liked the way she froze and let him guide her through the pink curtains of pleasure. It got him started up the hill for himself. He eased off on the fucking to get a running start. When he felt the charge would be productive, he picked up speed again. Lillian was even more active as he fucked her. It was like she was making this one for him. She responded to his every move. Sam could feel the muscles in her cunt ripple as she moved her ass around his thrusting cock. It was for him. Sam stuck her deep and stopped as the cum came out. Lillian moved even more as she was the leader into the promised land this time. As they lay in the straw catching their breaths, a sound of a badly missing engine approached. It coughed and died by the barn. "Oh shit, something's wrong with the tractor. That's Clem," Lillian groaned. They had just enough time to sit up and look at each other before Clem Clump walked in the barn and spotted them. "What you doing there with Lillian?" he asked. They were naked in the hay and if he looked close enough there was semen dripping off his wife fore and aft. Well, if he wanted the alternate ending. "I was sent by the government to inspect your womenfolk and make sure they're fit to breed," Sam said. "There's been a woeful drop in quality. Seems it started about the time you were born. If it gets any worse we're going to have to import some city fellers to bring the breed back up to snuff." Clem was ignoring, or not comprehending, Sam's wit. "You can't fuck my wife," Clem said. "You silly sod-buster, I can do whatever I want out here in God's outhouse," Sam sneered. "I can leave you hanging from a tree tied hand and foot and talk your dimwit sheriff into believing you were out to commit murder and got caught trying it out." Clem didn't look like he understood half of that. He did see the pose and had a direct answer. "You wait 'till I get my shotgun," he said. "He's gone to get his shotgun. You better leave," Lillian said. "What about you?" Sam asked. "He's no harder for me to bamboozle than he was for you," she said, "I think he's decided that he's allowed to shoot you. But a deal's a deal. I'll make it quick and then you go. Her name was Cheryl then and the folks 'round here have it in for her one way or the other. The boys would have their tongues hanging out so far they'd trip if she was a block away. That didn't endear her to the girls. And the boys, silly fucks that you men are, were scared to do anything but look. She had a couple of friends, funny-looking, brainy types, but they didn't stay around here neither. Now you git." He would have liked names and last known place of residence for the funny-looking, brainy types, but he settled for a non-perforated hide. It wasn't far to Howard. He could get there a little after dark and settle in before he looked for this Aunt Margerie. Changed her name and was ashamed of her hometown. That was scandalous, Sam laughed to himself. ----- Aunt Margerie was simple to find. Her return address was on her cards to Staci. Sam found the street and looked for the number. Aunt Margerie lived in a white house in the middle of the block. It was just as hard for him to get her to open up. He did have to ask. Once she knew who he was, she had as many questions about his business as he had about Staci. He passed himself as boring, but Margerie had some rude comments about what boring meant. She had a pretty rude take on what Sam spent his time doing. In that atmosphere, he tried to ease her into talking about what Staci was like- in that way. Margerie didn't plead ignorance, but she did make Sam say what he meant. "I've heard Staci has some strange tastes," Sam said. "Oh bosh! You know how she is. She told me you were lovers a long time ago," Margerie said. "Okay then," Sam said, perhaps hoping to shock her as well as spit out his question, "What's up with her liking a spanking?" "Because its naughty and exciting, the same reason anybody likes it," she said. "I get the naughty part," Sam said, "Naughty makes you hyper-aware and it juices up the sex. I think that's universal." "Yes, and naughty girls get a spanking," Margerie said, "It's out of her hands, not her responsibility, she doesn't have to think about it, she can rest that brain and let someone else take over." "I just don't get the part about liking restraints so much," Sam said. There was a much longer story about the trauma of having breasts at age 12, but she didn't think that went to the heart of it. She thought it went back to when Staci was a bright, pretty, normal little 11-year-old. Sam thought it was more than a suspicion and the old woman had been holding out until he cornered her. Staci had a cousin that used to hold her down and tickle her until she wet her panties. She hated him, absolutely hated him. The tickling was torture. When he laughed at her for wetting her pants, she cried. She also had a confusing tickling feeling when he made her wet her pants and when he laughed at her. She was too young to understand it was a sexual feeling. Knowing that would have saved her much worry about her mental state when she found herself making it easy for this cousin to find her when she knew places he would never find her. She did hate it. She had to be crazy to keep exposing herself to that torment. Sam was no psychologist, but it worked for him. He had come to terms with his own childhood traumas in his own way. He knew he liked to hear a woman gag on his cock because of his childhood. If the jealous ridicule of his classmates could make him sure no woman would ever want him and need her to prove it beyond all reason, then Staci could fix on a terrifying moment that first awakened her libido. "You know I wouldn't have told you that, but Staci talks about you so much that I know how she feels about you," Aunt Margerie confided. "I think you're close enough to family that you should know about her." "I hope I won't shock you, but I knew everything except the why," Sam said. "Staci and I try to be pretty open with each other." "Shock me?" the old woman chuckled, "I used to do some things that might shock you. I know I shocked myself out of a couple of small towns." Sam could believe it. There was a merry twinkle in her eye that said she not only would do it, she'd be proud of the infamy. He still had a couple of days. He thought he'd investigate this pizza store manager, or whatever. ----- Howard held surprises for Sam. Two of them were waiting under the overhang of his motel, sitting a few doors down from his room. They were huddling together and giggling when he got out of the rental car. They looked like they were 17. "Hey, mister," the sturdy brunette called out. "Is it true you're a detective?" Her slighter blonde friend giggled. "Not today. I'm a tourist," Sam answered. "But usually..." she went on. Sam smiled and didn't answer. "That old lady said you was that Sam Hill detective. So, are you?" she kept after him. Sam supposed they meant Margerie. He wished she hadn't told anybody. He wanted to keep a low profile. But he wasn't going to call her a liar and he wasn't going to lie to their faces. "Yes, I'm Sam Hill, but let's keep that between us, okay," he asked them. They surrounded him in a heart beat. "Aren't you gonna ask us in?" the brunette asked. The blonde giggled. "What do you want in there?" Sam asked. "Aren't you that guy that makes women swoon just touchin' 'em,? she asked, "Can't turn down a woman in need and are the best there is fucking? We're in need." Sam was taken aback. Not only were they blatant, they thought they knew an awful lot about him. "How old are you?" Sam furrowed his brow. "Twenty-one last week," the brunette lied. "Show me some I.D.," Sam challenged. "I told you it wouldn't work," the blonde put in. "I didn't think he'd care," the brunette answered. "After all, ain't he the one that lines 'em up and does 'em all night long?" Fifteen-year-old Tricia aside, this was a different part of the country and no parents were in winking collusion here. Sam could only imagine what they did to statutory rapists in these parts and none of the things he imagined were good. "I don't know what this is about, but it's been a long day and I'm tired," Sam said. "Nice to have met you ladies. Excuse me." They both giggled uncontrollably as he opened his door just wide enough to slip in and closed it behind him. Thankfully, they moved off when he shut the door. Lines them up and does them all night long? Where the hell did they get that crap? And out here? In Howard? It was beginning to scare Sam. He kept waiting for Rod Serling's voice. Presented. For your approval, a man so obsessed with women that he dreams they all desire him. Dreams sometimes become nightmares in a place called... the Twilight Zone. It had bothered him at home, like a running joke at his expense. Out in the middle of nowhere it was downright spooky. This was his first time in the state. How could they know about him? Sam was convinced he'd been transported to another planet as a guinea pig when he answered the knock on the door. There were the same giggles, bigger women. "You don't know me, but my daughter Nikki was here earlier and I want to thank you for chasing her off," the woman in front said. Sam could believe they were related. They had the same machine gun delivery. "We brought some ice and a bottle of Scotch to say thanks. Mind if we come in?" the last was delivered as she barged toward Sam. He stepped back instinctively to avoid being run over and gave her all the opening she needed to squeeze past him into the room. Two more slipped in like they were tied to her tail before Sam could get back to the door. "Any more out there?" he asked as he looked out the door. "You said to keep it a secret," a mousy blonde woman said. "You must be Nikki's friend's mother," Sam guessed. "Isn't he? Isn't he just dead smart like it says?" she giggled and blushed furiously. "I'm Donna and this is Naomi and our friend is Ashley," Nikki's mom, Donna, told Sam. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?" Sam asked. Ashley had gone over and was sitting on one of the double beds, bouncing up and down. "And he talks so nice," Naomi giggled some more. "Why are you here?" Sam snapped. "We think you're just the best detective in the world and we've all dreamed of meeting you in person. Excuse Naomi, but she's so excited she can hardly help peeing," Donna chattered. "We want some of your big city loving," Ashley said from her perch. "We know you can't hardly do without and we want it so bad. We'll do anything for you. We really will. Don't bother about them. They'll calm down when they get over the shock." He was crazy. This did not happen on the planet where he used to live. Sam sat on the bed and looked at each of the women in turn. Donna was the leader, or at least spokeswoman. She looked like her daughter grown old. Naomi was an interesting little blonde with a kind of Sissy Spacek wholesome face. Ashley had long, straight light brown hair reaching halfway down her back and was certainly the youngest. He couldn't tell anything about their bodies in the loose, shapeless dresses they wore. He was considering their intent. Did they really expect him to whip it out and give them magical orgasms by touching them with his dick? "You said something about a drink?" Sam said. Naomi and Donna plopped down on either side of him. They faced Ashley. Naomi had brought glasses as well as the ice. Donna was clutching a bottle of Cutty Sark. Sam liked fruity drinks, but they made him puke. At least with Scotch he passed out suddenly and fell over. Naomi passed around the glasses and broke into the ice. Donna splashed Scotch into the other three glasses and poured a full four fingers for Sam. Now he knew their plan. They were going to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Sam saw no other option short of violence. Staci had told him to fuck every woman he found. Sam sipped his drink and resigned himself to his fate. It wasn't real anyway. He was in a nut hatch somewhere having a hallucination. Sam felt like he was the hallucination when they dragged him out of his pants. It started with Ashley pulling off her sack of a dress and reminding the others. "Come on, you're going to or not," she challenged the women on either side of Sam. They did. Donna was a full-figured gal with a stout waist and melon-sized breasts. Naomi was a scrawny little "B" cup. Ashley was young, built just right and had breasts that looked just a tad bigger than Naomi's. They sat in their underwear for a minute and then Ashley decided it was time for them to have something to look at. It was quiet as a church when his boxers came down with his pants and his cock flopped out. It was the sound of reverent awe as they stared, transfixed by his dick. It was as if the air in the room had been changed. The giddy atmosphere had been sucked out and replaced with heavy, sexually-charged air. They weren't acting like silly, nervous girls now. They were staring at Sam as if he was lunch. "And it isn't even hard," Naomi said quietly. "I think I’m going to faint," Donna said and fell backwards on the bed. "This was your idea," Ashley said to Donna, not sounding quite as brash herself, "You called dibs. You get to show us how it's done." "Now wait!" Sam snapped, "This is my dick and I'll say how it gets used." It was about time someone who wasn't giggling took charge. They weren't very good at taking advantage of him. He was going to call the shots from now on. "I got no problem with Donna going first," he said to ease the pout on the large woman's face, "But I'm going to need a reason to take the time and effort to fuck you all. First off, I want to see it all. Get the rest of that stuff off. I want you all naked and I want you to dance for me while I finish my drink." They were a motley sight naked. But once they got over their hesitation about being naked in front of each other, they surprised Sam with their honest sexuality as they did what they considered dancing. Sam had to admit it was more effective than he thought it would be and that it was in fact better for showing him how much they wanted him than the cold marketing of a professional stripper. They were like puppies in the pet store window, each trying to be cuter than the other, each trying to impress him more with the need they showed as they exhibited and touched themselves. Sam couldn't think of them as small-town wanna-bes any more. Their lack of sophistication did nothing to reduce the raw sexuality they displayed. His dick was getting hard. The absurdity of his situation seemed to recede. It looked like it was going to happen. Sam began to think seriously how he was going to manage the trio. "To do this right, you know you're going to have to touch each other," Sam announced. Blank stares. They didn't protest or make faces. They were waiting for him to tell then what to do. He was ready for some dissention, but they didn't argue. "Okay, Donna, come over here," he said, "You two- on the other bed. I want to watch you touch each other while Donna blows me." They were the ones that busted in his room. If his frank expectations offended them, they could get their country asses out. None of them reacted that way. He had to stop Donna from blowing him where he sat. He wanted to get comfortable first. He lay out on the bed and Donna lay across him with his dick in her mouth. Naomi and Ashley weren't touching, but it was better. They were holding each other and making out like they were both the boy and they were in the back seat of a parked car. Sam began to plot the intersection of the four points on the graph paper of his mind. If they were going to respond to command this well, it looked like it might just be possible. He pulled Donna up by the hair. "How do you want me to fuck you?" he asked. "You mean like which hole or something?" she was confused, "You can do whatever you want, Mr. Sam Hill. You're the expert." What he wanted presented a problem. He wanted her tits on her back so he could play with them while he fucked her from behind. He settled for putting her on her side and straddling her leg. He pushed her top leg up with his thigh and came in sideways. It let him poke at interesting angles inside Donna and gave him the chance to play with her tits. Contrary to his guess, Donna liked his thrust to be more back to front as he slid his cock under her ass cheek and up her flue. She wiggled her ass with most delightful results and he fucked her that way. "Oh please, Mr. Hill, keep doing that! Don't stop! Keep doing it!" she moaned desperately. He'd never been called "Mr. Hill" in the heat of passion before. That made him feel like a movie star. He dropped his hand on the joining of Donna's hip and thigh and pulled her back so he could ram deeper. He reached out and grabbed her melon breast. She came with breathy moans and a few sharp intakes of breath. Sam felt her cunt grab at his cock as her butt shook all over. He had considered finishing her and withdrawing to take on a second of the trio, but he was too close. He jammed into her harder and shot off, most powerfully, into her. They wanted him to fuck them all? They could do the work to make him want to. Naomi had warmed to her task. When Sam looked over, Her head was over Ashley's chest and she was sucking the younger girl's nipples. Ashley was showing no objection. It fueled his hope that he would fuck one of them while they were "69ing" each other. "Should I help them?" Donna asked when she rolled over to watch. "I think they should help you," Sam said, holding his cock between two fingers and waving the sticky flesh at her. Donna wasn't the only one in the room with her hearing intact. Naomi came up from nuzzling Ashley's chest and the two moved toward Sam. "You want us all to suck you?" Naomi asked. Sam definitely felt like dinner. He was surrounded and Naomi pulled his ass perilously close to the edge of the bed and let his legs rest on her shoulders. Sam had women right and left and one below. He had never considered being tongue-fucked in the ass while he was fucking a woman, but Naomi's ventures into his humid buttcrack put the idea in his head. Naomi dipped down to his ass from time to time as a variation on her post at his balls. Ashley and Donna traded off sucking his cock and licked his cock together. Sometimes, when Donna had his cock, Ashley would join Naomi on his balls and then Naomi would give his asshole a good going over, leaving Sam with his cock in a mouth and tongues on his balls and asshole. He was almost sorry they brought a response as quickly as they did. The luxury of three mouths more intense than any mere sex, particularly since he was able to experience it in the leisure of a limp prick. When his cock came erect, he knew it was too intense to enjoy. The women had set him a hard task and he couldn't waste a hard-on enjoying the triple-tonguing. He would fuck each of them and then they could decide what to do with any energy he had left. "Next!" he said as Ashley passed his hard cock back to Donna. "You go ahead," Ashley said to Naomi. "Oh no, you're up there, You take him," Naomi said with a lilt in her tone. Sam was having his discovery fulfilled almost immediately. They didn't move Sam or ask him to move. Ashley swung her leg over him and mounted him like a show pony. The show was in Naomi's tongue as she continued to lick his balls and wander lower into her asscrack as Ashley moved up and down on his shaft. Sam's only part was to wiggle at the tickle of Naomi's tongue as Ashley pursued her own pleasures on his cock. This was the way a woman on top should be. She should fuck him while a friend both distracted his attention and added to the pleasure of the hot cunt sliding up and down his cock. Donna came over and began stroking Ashley's moving back. It didn't seem like either woman was unfamiliar with the touch. Seeing that, Sam decided Donna and Ashley had experience and Naomi was the talented amateur. That made his chances of fucking them while they were fucking each other rise considerably. His cock had risen to its maximum, but Ashley's excitement was still climbing to its peak. Her ass came down with a definite finality as she began to pant. Donna rubbed her arm and hand across Ashley's breasts as she fucked Sam faster. She came magnificently, her hips making quick stuttering back jerks against Sam's cock as she came. Sam just let her have the pole. Naomi was licking the rear of his balls to duck out of the way of Ashley's ass and it was wonderfully delightful. "Get off," Sam told her, "I've got something else for you to do." "Donna got two cums," she said defiantly. "Lucky Donna. Get off," he told her and lifted his head to call down to Naomi, "Naomi, how much would you like to eat Ashley's pussy while she eats yours?" "Is that what you want me to do?" Naomi asked as her head bobbed up between his legs. Naomi's brow was wrinkled in confusion. "There'll be a dick involved and I will fuck you too," Sam promised. That seemed to soothe her fears. She smiled immediately. Sam guessed the request to do the lezzie '69' hadn't bothered her. "How do we do this?" Ashley began to get off his cock. "You on top just like you are," Sam told her. Sam could lean into the bed and stick his cock back into Ashley, angling the opposite direction. As he fucked her, Naomi licked cunt, balls, whatever came in range of her flailing tongue. Sam imagined Naomi was getting the best head of her life from Ashley. Ashley was a trooper. Her ass went into overdrive almost from the minute Sam's cock slid into her. His cock and Naomi's mouth were powerful temptations to forget her own job, but she sucked Naomi's pussy like it was the only thing on her mind. Sam only knew she came because her cunt tightened around his cock. She kept her mouth filled with pussy and didn't stop sucking when she came. Sam decided to borrow the stimulation. "Naomi! My balls now," he called. That was the way it should be too. Shooting off in a nice tight cunt while your balls are being licked. "That's two," he wheezed to Ashley. "Let me have Naomi," Donna asked. "Only if she's on top, because I'm going to fuck her after Ashley sucks my dick hard agin," Sam intercepted the request to Ashley. "See," Sam said as Ashley let Naomi up, "You get two orgasms, you have to suck my dick." "I like sucking everything," Ashley grinned and patted the bed beside her, "I'm a very oral person." What she was, was psychic. They lay back watching Donna and Naomi eat each other and she stroked his cock at first. She had sucked it clean of juices and it was now a poor little thing laying on his belly. She picked the exact moment to suck his cock into her mouth when she could make it immediately start to grow. It was like uncoiling a long rope to make his cock rise, but it started when his cock was sucked between her lips. Sam had no reason to say no to the feeling. Ashley kept his cock in her mouth until it was too big to fit. Then she began giving head. She didn't demand it rise- now, hurry. She encouraged it with womb-like visits to the depths of her mouth and vigorous licks to call it to rise. None of them was in a hurry. When Ashley had given him that marvelous extended blow-job that can only come between cum two and three, he turned his thoughts to Naomi. What a woman. She came with her friends to explore and looked like she had gotten a long-awaited opportunity to join them in their sister love. She wasn't awkward any more. Donna's feet were braced on the headboard, toes curled. Naomi was giving as good as she got. Sam wanted to give her a little more. Naomi wasn't as much of a trooper as Ashley. "Oh Christ! It feels just like they say!" Naomi lifted her head and gasped as Sam pushed his cock into her cunt. Sam had become amused at all the things they said. It sounded like Naomi was happy about it. Sam let it go at that. He had something more important to do. He had to make Naomi cum- twice to keep it even. He liked them all. It was great once you got used to the idea. They all wanted to fuck him and were grateful that he would fuck them. But he had taken more of a liking to Naomi. It wasn't her skinny body. It was standing in Donna's shadow, wanting to share the woman love between Donna and Ashley. Sam liked underdogs. He fucked Naomi without the benefit of Donna's tongue. That stayed flickering around the top of Naomi's cunt where it belonged. He wanted Naomi to be the one excited. He wanted to feel her cum on his dick. It didn't take much of his pressing the back wall of her cunt for Naomi to be launched into orgasm. It was too quick for Sam. At that rate she would have far too many orgasms before he was ready. He couldn't take credit. Certainly the string of orgasms Donna had licked from her cunt had given him a head start. Perhaps no one would bicker if Naomi had three or four more. "Mr. Hill?" Naomi interrupted him and after he grunted, said, "You know we've got to go soon. We know how you always end things. So could you put that in my ass?" "You like that do you?" Sam chuckled. "Well... actually, I've never had anything like a dick up there, but tonight..." she let that admission trail off. Sam was a rogue and a thief, a murderer and a marauder. God help him, he was going to fuck her in the ass and he was going to do it without further ado. Lubrication was for sissies. Forgive him, he wanted to shove his cock in her virgin asshole with only the lubrication she gave him in her cunt. He pulled his cock out of her cunt and put it on her asshole. She opened like the gates of Jericho when the walls came tumblin' down and he sank half his cock in her ass at one push. "You've never had a cock in this ass?" Sam was skeptical. "Not a cock," Naomi repeated, "But I do give it a work out with a candle or maybe something else when I read about you." Well, that explained it- a candle or maybe an axe handle. Read what? The last was lost in the sensation of sinking to the root of his cock in Naomi's asshole. It was still a tight ass, just accommodating. "Yeah- give it to her," came Ashley's voice from behind him. Sam felt her hands on his ass kneading his buttocks as he fucked Naomi's ass. This was like everything else so far that night- just as it should be. This time Sam's conviction may not have been the strongest in the room. As Sam's cock pillaged her ass, Naomi was believing even harder that having a cock in your ass while having your clit licked was the best possible use of the lower half of her body. She didn't think she had stopped cumming since Sam settled against her ass on his first thrust. Sam had given her ass a rather piddling squirt with a great commotion and the three were walking out the door before he remembered Naomi's startling words- when I read about you. They were gone before he could ask them what that meant. Where the hell could they read about him, particularly about his sexual prowess and preferences? He now had a more personal investigation than some old restaurant manger. ----- "So where did you read all these things about me?" he asked Nikki, after cornering her on the street. "I'm too young to know," she said waving off down the street. "Ask the old lady." That was a better place to start. He went to Margerie's house and rang the bell. He was seething. She had ratted him out to the girls and she was holding out on him. "Hello, old lady, I've a few more questions to ask you," he snapped. "I'm not the Old lady. She runs the Old general store on the corner, but I'll answer your questions if I can," she said sweetly. That stunned Sam for a second, but he quickly found his tongue and asked his questions, albeit a bit more politely. "Where does everybody in this town read all about me?" he carefully asked, straining to keep his cool. "In your books, of course," she gave him a strange look. "My books?" Sam was flabbergasted. Margerie handed him a paperback with a brightly colored lurid cover. "Call a Call Girl" blared the title. "By Prof. and Mrs. Underhill" was in receding type in the corner. Sam looked on the first page after the title. "Drawn from the real case files of Sam Hill, P.I. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between characters and people, living or dead, is purely coincidental." He skimmed the first pages. Some guy was crying about a lost daughter. Had a video tape of her. The dick was only interested in some other babe on the tape. Then his slender, efficient, "C" cupped assistant Shelly came in and he tried to hide his interest. He knew that one. It had a dramatic ending, snatching a triumph from the sinking feeling that scum was going to walk free. The guy's real name was Abernathy. "How many of these are there?" Sam asked. "Of that one?" Margerie asked, "I'm sure I don't know. Ask the New York Times. Don't they keep track of that?" "How many ones like it?" Sam asked. "You mean different stories?" she asked. "Five. The last one is real up to date with software rights and everything." Sam remembered that one too. Margerie's happy sharing once he'd asked the right question had defused his ire at her. Now there was smoke forming around his head as he thought of this professor and his wife. Who were they to cash in on his cases? "Didn't you know about these books?" Margerie asked. "They use your name, so I just assumed... Anyway, it's so exciting reading about Staci, even if they didn't get her right. But they captured you to a tee. You're just like they say you are." "A few of the women in town commented the same thing, just yesterday," Sam observed wryly. Sam had a new case now, a real one, for himself. It was time to cut his vacation short and get back to the city. Last night was enough to satisfy Staci's requirements, he was sure. On the way he stopped and called New York. The man he reached at Anchor Lights publishing was mockingly polite. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't share our information about our authors," he said in response to Sam's demand. "But I'm Sam Hill! They're stealing my life!" he shouted at the prissy little bureaucrat. "Certainly sir, but what am I to say when all those imposters call claiming to be you," he oozed over the phone, "I suggest you sue. In fact, I think it would be a good idea if you found a nice, friendly police officer right now and talked it over with him." Sam slammed the phone down. He was frustrated, but the guy was right. People could be anybody on the other end of a phone line. It just stung to be called a crackpot so officiously. The guy was right. He'd sue. See what he called him then. He wasn't poor any more. He could hire Melvin Harrison and his walnut paneling and leather furniture if he wanted. He was dead tired two hours from home. He would arrive in the middle of the night, early, beat and interrupting God knew what at the apartment. He wasn't suspicions of Staci and he had no reason to begrudge her some excitement of her own. Besides, it just would be plain rude to walk in when she thought she had the place to herself. He was dropping off to sleep when something nagged at him. He woke from a dream of screwing Staci in the ass in the morning. It jolted his memory. Naomi has said: That's how you always end it. Nobody wrote down that detail in the case file. He was sure, 'case closed- now Sam will fuck me in the ass' didn't appear in his files. That was between him and Staci- and now God knew how many readers. Staci was in on it. He hoped she was an unwitting dupe, but he knew he was trying not to believe what he just realized. Staci wasn't a dupe. She was too sharp. He'd have thought his gut would tell him, but then he remembered thinking that she had a secret. He didn't even feel angry. He felt empty and dried up inside. Staci was the iciest-hearted bitch imaginable, lead him on just to get more cases from him. There would be no joy in confronting her. That shocked calm wore off as he drove. Bitch! And she had the nerve to laugh at Anabella. Annabella was a shark, but she killed clean. She wasn't a back-stabbing bitch slowly leeching the life out of a man while she lay in bed next to him. Then all he wanted was to see her face when he told her he had caught on to her little game. He wanted the real woman to come out from behind the mask she showed him. He wanted to look the demonspawn in her real eyes. ----- It was like God had smiled on him now that he had finally come into the light of knowledge. Staci was sitting at her desk. There was a thick yellow box beside her. "Sam! I didn't expect you back until tomorrow might," Staci jumped when she saw him. She tried to nonchalantly move the box off her desk. She recoiled in shock when Sam seized the box and held it up. "More blood you've drained from my veins?" he shouted dramatically. Staci blushed and started to stammer. "How could you?" Sam was suddenly maudlin and on the verge of tears. His last faint hope had been dashed. He held the proof in his hands. She really had been like a spy in his bed. He was wounded through the heart. "I thought you'd think it was a joke," Staci said, "I didn't want you to make fun of me." "So you stab me in the back?" Sam's temper was shooting up again, "Tell me, are you fucking the professor too? Are you really Mrs. Underhill?" "Sam! Quit it! It's not all my fault you know," Staci scolded. "No- you have two friends!" Sam bellowed. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Staci shouted back. Sam slammed the box down in front of Staci and leaned down with his nose an inch from her face. "Professor and Mrs. Underhill, perhaps?" he snarled. "Prof. and Mrs. Underhill," she corrected. "As in profit and the miss is UNDER Hill. I thought it was quite clever." Sam's face dropped. Now he was confused. "What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "You obviously found out about the books," Staci said. "I thought you would when the first one came out, but then time went by..." "What are you telling me?" Sam asked, straightening up. "I was going to tell you when I signed the contract to write the first one- Picture of a Dead Doll- but you were too drunk to know what I was saying," Staci said. "So you broke my nose?" Sam asked. "That was the time. You might have noticed that I was upset?" Staci said sharply. "Right there," Sam pointed to his nose. "I'll always notice that you were upset." "Well, it wasn't the only reason, but I was in no condition to deal with a grabby, sloppy drunk at the time. I had too much on my mind," she said. "Wait- you're saying you wrote these books?" Sam said. Staci nodded. "So who's the professor?" Sam asked. "Didn't you listen? It's not professor, It's prof- as in profit. You might as well say it's you," Staci said. "What do you mean by that?" Sam asked "I just write them, Sam, you're the main character. They're your cases, I have Anchor Light split the royalties and put half in each of our accounts." "I'm rich?" Sam looked around, wondering why no one had told him that. "They haven't sold that well," Staci said, "But the numbers are getting better. Right now I guess you've got about $20,000 in your account." "And you didn't tell me because," he pointed to his nose, "But why not later?" "I kept meaning to, but you know, first I had to wait to see if the first one sold and then to see if they would want another one and then I wanted to see if that would go and then... And then it got easier not to tell you," Staci confessed. "And what is this?" Sam asked, pointing to the box. "Galley proofs for final corrections," Staci said. "The sixth book- A Pair of Bad Breaks. It was the hardest to write. I had to live through that time again and keep my perspective." "That the Twyler thing?" Sam asked. Staci nodded. Sam slapped his hand down on the box. "Well, Miss Author, you'll have to correct on your own time. Right now I've got some dictation for you to take," Sam smiled. Staci was wary walking into his office. It seemed like a perfect set-up for Sam to ambush her. She never saw this ambush coming. "The case of Cheryl Goodbody," Sam announced. Staci nearly dropped her pencil. It took her nine stories to have a last name, but that wasn't the shock. Hearing her real given name was. Sam made her outline everything he had found and added his tale of the women of Crawfordville and Howard. "By the way, Aunt Margerie says it's a shame they don't get Staci- or Cheryl- or Shelly right," he said. "A girl can dream, can't she," Staci said. "Not if she cheats herself," Sam said. "I only like Shelly because I know it's you. You're a lot better than her." "From you I don't mind," Staci said. "I know you like my huge tits, but I don't mind because I know you'd still be just as hot to get in my pants if I was flat. You're an equal opportunity letch. I don't mind you having a bonus." "The bonus is you have more life than Shelly," Sam said, "You're not a machine. You're witty, and wicked sometimes, you even sometimes make cute blunders. That's the bonus and, speaking of bone, I think I just solved a case. You read the books. You know what comes next." "Now Sam, wait," Staci stalled, "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow night. Can't you at least wait until we get home?" Sam granted her the stay. He did have to turn in the rental and claim his own car at the airport. When he returned, she was waiting innocently- too innocently. "So, you were scribbling away all through the Benny Morton thing?" Sam asked in the car. "Long before that, Sam," Staci said. "That was when the first one finally came out. I've always written them up, it just took a long time to find a publisher to buy them." "I must be a great detective if you were doing that under my nose and I didn't notice it," Sam grimaced. "You were busy," Staci made the excuse for Sam. "But you did miss things I thought sure would tip you off. I wanted to bite my tongue when I told you the rent was paid almost half a year in advance. And I wondered how you figured that you drive this beat-up thing that would cost you $50 to have hauled away and my car is two years old." "You're magic with money- thrifty and wise, that's how I figured it," Sam said. And then everything was as advertised- "SURPRISE!!" Sam saw Judy from the cafe, Joe the grocer, Miss Zsa-zsa and, in the back, Darla Dare. "Welcome Home!" they shouted. He saw everyone but Darla had brought a partner. He wondered if Judy knew the cook with her was boning the girl in the red Escort. "We were going to throw this party tomorrow, but you surprised us," Staci grinned at Sam. "And you have a surprise for them that none of them anticipated," Sam grinned back at her. "Come on, no," Staci shrank back when she saw his intent, "You can't, not in front of our guests." "You knew what was coming when you invited them. You could have left the party until tomorrow. I can't let you get away with a convenient excuse or you'll pull this every time," Sam said. Staci was backing away. Sam was following step for step. The rest were watching with a mix of questioning looks and knowing smiles. Sam backed her into the couch. "Now I'm going to unwrap my present!" Sam gloated as he grabbed her and spun her around. "No Sam, not like this. Not in front of everybody!" Staci pleaded. "Don't worry, doll, I'll leave you draped- except at the site of the operation," he said and pulled her pants down to just below her buttocks. Staci's shocked gasp joined a couple from the guests. Staci looked around like a hunted animal and there was a stir in the others. Miss Zsa- zsa, Judy and Darla were smiling and the others held their ground, not sure enough to do anything. "Darla," Sam called out, "Throw me that tube on the bedside table, would you?" Staci squawked. Sam pushed her down over the arm of the couch with one hand and put the other up to catch the tube of lube. There were more shocked gasps as Sam dropped his pants and his cock waved in front of everyone except Staci. "Sam! We just can't go at it like animals in front of our guests!" Staci tried another protest. "Not just animals- what did you call us that night you girls were drunk?" he asked Darla as he greased his prick. "Mink," Darla said. "Sam. Do this later. Please, don't!" Staci begged one more time. Her ass was wiggling like a bitch in heat. She certainly was uncomfortable, undoubtedly embarrassed, and Sam was sure her heart felt like a squirrel trying to gnaw its way out of the cage of her ribs. For Staci that meant she was hot. "No! Please!" Staci screeched as Sam pushed his cock into her asshole and then dissolved in an unmistakable groan of lust, "Ohhhhhhhhh!" "Like mink," Darla assessed. ###